


Fools can't catch colds

by drcalvin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drcalvin/pseuds/drcalvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany catches a cold. Big brother Prussia decides to play nursemaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools can't catch colds

In Germany's opinion, the current situation was preposterous. Bad enough that he had gotten a serious case of recession-flu. Worse that America had the nerve to still be perfectly healthy, though the entire thing was his fault. His countrymen had certainly not been spared from the economic downturn!

Maybe Germany could also have protested a little louder when they began loosening the rules for the stock market and high-risk investments; he'd seen first-hand how bad things could get after all.... But it was without doubt _mostly_ America's fault!

As such, it was completely unfair that Germany was the one laid up in bed with fever while America was still happily running around. He kept telling them all how "change" was coming at last, just they wait and watch the "A&amp;B Hero Team!!!" deal with everything.

To make matters worse, someone else who really ought to have been hit hard by this flu was also still spryly on his feet. Right now those feet were probably in the kitchen, in front of the stove, while the body attached to them was doing unmentionable things to a defenceless chicken broth.

When Germany heard the tell-tale sounds of boots stomping up the stairs, he tensed. Maybe he should get up. His fever wasn't that bad after all, nothing like poor Latvia! Right, no use lying around here, so he'd just-

"Woof!"

When he tried to move, the pleasantly warm lump on his knees moved suddenly, and so Germany found himself with an armful of warm dog. _Heavy_ warm dog, which was barking loudly at him and didn't respond to his weak struggles at all.

"Ahh, get off me! You're not even allowed in bed, what have I-"

The door opened and his doom came in. Predictably, the doom was smiling and singing happily to himself. They tended to do that, Germany had noted, except when they came with ugly little moustaches.

"Woof! Woof!" Berlitz barked again and flicked his tail happily, completely ignoring how it almost brought down the glass of water on the bedside table.

"Good boy!"   
Prussia, while balancing the tray dangerously on one hand, threw a treat to the dog residing on Germany's chest.

Either following some unknown signal, or just the food, the two dogs that had followed him up quit dancing around his feet. Instead the decided that this was the perfect moment to join Berlitz on the (forbidden to them, dammit!) bed.

Germany winced as two further canine bodies thumped down on the cover above him, now effectively immobilizing him. Typical. The moment he looked away, his brother was leading both his troops and dogs into temptation!

"Yees," Prussia set down the tray to cuddle the animals. "Whosiwosi is a good boy who kept my silly brother from escaping and probably getting pneumonia, the idiot? Yes! Yes, you are!"

"Brother..."

"Hmm? Oh, look poochies, West deigns to speak to me." Prussia leered at the trapped nation. "Has something happened that you, oh hale and mighty nation who does not have a raging fever - except you do, hah! - can't deal with?"

"This is simply not fair," Germany muttered and tried to bat away the dog-kisses he was receiving. Much to Prussia's amusement, he failed. Repeatedly.

"Oh, would you stop grinning at me, brother! Hey, quit that!" he said, the last part aimed at Berlitz, Blackie and Aster. All three of them kept on ignoring him.

"You only had to ask, dearest little brother. Shoo, puppies!"

The dogs, traitorous little bastards who would regret this sorely once Germany was back on his feet, obediently made room for Prussia to sit on the edge of the bed. So now they were only crushing Germany's legs, with Blackie's head a solid warmth on his stomach, but at least he could breathe again.

Prussia took a few moments to fuss with the cutlery, before holding up a large, steaming bowl of soup. Germany swallowed and glanced at the window. Maybe, if he like, slithered out from beneath the dogs...?

"Don't even think about it!" his brother said, still unfailingly cheerful. "Aww, come on, you're acting like I'm England."

"I've never said you were that bad," Germany muttered. Come to think of it, that may have something to do with why America so rarely fell ill...   
"But. Brother." How to put it in a polite way? Impossible, so he'd just have to go for honesty instead.  
"I'm feverish. Right now, my sinuses are clogged worse than the Autobahn after a triple-lane accident. And I can _still_ smell far too much of the bloody garlic you've put in that soup!"

"Garlic is good for you. I fed you garlic practically every day-"

"Yes, thank you, _I noticed_."

"-and just look how big and strong you grew up!"

"Gaah!"  
This was really not fair. Germany was ill, after all. His head ached, his muscles ached and his throat was a constantly sore throb even beneath the painkillers. He didn't even have any appetite so why in the world did Prussia decide that now was the perfect moment to catch up on all those brotherly duties he had neglected the last, oh, 20 years?   
Unfortunately, they had already had that discussion earlier that day and Germany had lost it quite soundly -

> _"Shouldn't you be ill too?"_

"Huhuhuhu! I'm too awesome to get sick!"

"Pfah!"

"No, it's true! Even Japan said so when I temped for you at the meeting!"

"...you're lying."

"Of course not! Said he wasn't in the least surprised that neither me nor Italy Veneziano had gotten this round!"

"..."

"Now then." Prussia held up the spoon. " Say aahh!"

The worst thing was, Germany had to admit, the soup looked rather harmless. Pale chicken broth with little pieces of potatoes and carrots floating in it. Much more devious than England's abominations; they at least had the decency to look as unappetizing as they tasted.

"I don't want any." He closed his mouth tightly, determined not to let himself be fooled again. Prussia could just pour the whole thing down the drain, as far as he was concerned. "I don't even particularly like garlic!"

Then Germany had to dodge Prussia's spoon, which approached rapidly as soon as he spoke. Right, keep mouth closed, mustn't forget that. His brother had always possessed an aim as unfortunate as unerring. It seemed as if the years hadn't rusted his skills.

"Mmm, yummy soup," Prussia said, stirring the broth a little when he refused to comply. The smell alone was almost enough to make Germany's eyes tear up, except they were already feeling pretty glassy from the fever.  
"I think, if my throat hurt, which it doesn't since I eat plenty of garlic to keep healthy, it would feel wonderful and soothing to taste this soup. Numnum."

Germany made a small sound of disbelief. Among Prussia's many culinary quirks, was the idea that anything with lots of garlic (which was according to him just about everything) went well with an extra helping or four of black pepper. Soothing was not the word that came to mind.

"At least I've never worried you were a vampire," Germany muttered, when his brother did a big show of tasting the spoonful and remarking how absolutely delicious it was.

For some reason, Prussia found this very entertaining and he hurried to put down the bowl before anything spilled. A pity. Although, come to think of it, wet stinky sheets wouldn't be much fun either.

"Come on then, stubborn. Gotta lie down properly if you're not going to eat," his brother said, fluffing the pillow for Germany.

Say what now? When he saw that his brother seemed sincere, Germany allowed himself to be fully bedded down, though he still felt very wary. Well. This was unexpected.

"You're not going to force me? Try and force me, that is."

"Meh." Prussia's shrug was perfectly non-committal. "Why should I?"

"You always used to, when I was younger."

"Well, yes." His brother re-tied the scarf around his neck and tucked him in carefully. "But you were a lot smaller then..."

Germany refrained from mentioning that his last severe cold had been in 1929 when he was fully-grown and topped Prussia by a few centimetres. That hadn't stopped his brother at the time, quite the opposite. He had mostly seemed happy to have an opportunity to boss him around again.

"I figure, after two wars of ah, moderately impressive size..." They shared a wry grin at that, knowing that some jokes just had to stay in the family.   
"And, what was it? Some forty years on your own. Heck, even my little brother must have grown up some!"

"Oh. I, uh... Thank you?" Germany dithered a little, not really knowing how to deal with a softly smiling brother who kept petting his hair. "For accepting me as a grown nation, I mean."

There was no reply, except a deepening of that queer smile. On anyone else's face, Germany would have termed it "tender" but that word- Prussia- No, he just couldn't wrap his mind around the combination.

"Do you want some fresh water then?" his brother asked. "Or orange juice?"

"No, thank you." Germany closed his eyes. "I..."

"If you tell me you want to hear a bedtime story, I'm going to point and laugh. A lot," Prussia informed him.

"Actually, I realized that maybe I do want something hot, after all. But just a taste!"

"...You know what?" Prussia's wide-flung arms almost smacked Blackie on the nose, but the old dog was familiar enough with him to only snort and curl up closer around Germany.   
"I'm so awesome, I'm gonna give you a story _for free_! But, only if you finish your soup first."

"Half my soup."

"Sure, half your soup. Forgot to cook anything for myself, anyway."

"Really?"

"Shut up, West. Ahem. Now... say ahh!"


End file.
